


I Know Exactly What You Need

by Irrevocably_Infatuated



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bard - Freeform, Bard's lovely hands, Barduil - Freeform, Caring Bard, Fluff, I wanted to write smut but I just can't, M/M, Massages, Ohh that's a spoiler right there, Thranduil - Freeform, Well it started out as fluff, might be a little ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 05:11:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3434780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irrevocably_Infatuated/pseuds/Irrevocably_Infatuated
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bard senses that something's off during one of Thranduil's many visits to Dale, and being the good friend that he is, he's determined to do whatever he can to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know Exactly What You Need

“You seem… different today.” Bard remarked one night in his study as he poured wine into goblets for himself and his friend, the Elvenking, Thranduil, the latter on one of his regular diplomatic visits to the city of Dale.

 

“I know not of what you speak, Dragonslayer.” Thranduil replied in a quizzical tone as he settled elegantly into his usual seat by the hearth, accepting the proffered wine from Bard when he finally came over.

 

Bard couldn’t help but smile as he seated himself across the elf. Thranduil always used _that name_ whenever he meant to tease. But after that he leans forward, brows slightly furrowed as he examines his friend.

 

“No, Thran. I know you well enough by now to notice when there’s something bothering you.”

 

“Bard…” Thranduil sighed, taking a long sip from his goblet before continuing “…I can assure you, it is of no consequence.”

 

“Don’t be like that, Thran.” Bard said, reaching over to squeeze the elf’s free hand briefly. “We’re friends. You know you can tell me anything.”

 

Thranduil cocked his head, about to give a snarky reply when he notices the genuine worry in the King of Dale’s eyes, and so his face softens somewhat.

 

“It is hard to me to explain.”

 

“Well, I’m _all ears_.” Bard says cheekily, which only makes Thranduil turn his eyes upward momentarily.

 

“It is just…” Thranduil hesitates, “I feel like I am getting old.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“I do not tire easily, Bard. But as of late, it seems as if parts of my body turn rigid after long hours of carrying out my royal duties. It is most uncomfortable.” The Elvenking confessed, downing the rest of his drink soon after. 

 

“Surely it’s nothing your healers couldn’t fix?” Bard asked, taking the elf's empty goblet and setting it along with his own on the nearest table. 

 

“I could not possibly trouble them with such trivial matters.”

 

“Your well-being is _not_ a trivial matter, Thranduil.” Bard replied, his expression serious.

 

The Elvenking was about to protest when Bard suddenly stood up. Thranduil narrowed his eyes.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“I think I know exactly what you need.” He said, moving to stand behind the Elvenking’s chair.

 

“And what, may I ask, would that be- Oh!” Thranduil nearly jumped when he felt large calloused hands grip his shoulders.

 

“Hush, Thran. Try to relax.”

 

Bard began to slowly knead the tense muscles on the elf’s shoulders, applying just enough force to soothe away the stiffness he found there. Even though he knew the elf was so much stronger than he looked, Bard still took great care to not hurt him.

 

“Hmm, that feels…” Thranduil closed his eyes, unconsciously leaning back against the touch. “…wonderful.”

 

“It’s called a massage.” Bard replied, hands now moving to his shoulder blades. His movements gentle but deliberate. “We mortals may not know any healing magic, but in this way at least, our hands can also heal.”

 

“That, I no longer doubt.” Thranduil smirked, bending forward slightly to give Bard a more comfortable angle to work with.

 

“You know, Thran, this would be so much easier if you weren’t wearing such a thick gown.” Bard grinned.

 

Thranduil snorted but undid the intricate clasps of his overcoat anyway, standing up only to remove and neatly deposit it onto the other chair before settling back down, now stripped down to a thin white silken shirt with beautiful elven patterns sewn with gold thread on its collar and cuffs.

 

“That’s better.” Bard said, his husky voice a little too close to the Elvenking’s ear that it made the latter shiver slightly.

 

Bard’s hands were moving lower now. Thranduil felt as if he had tiny knots in his back that were slowly being undone, and he closed his eyes again in pleasure. Even with his clothing he could still feel the heat of Bard’s touch, and it made his skin prickle. A familiar stirring began low in his belly, and his eyes fluttered open when he realized with horror just what he was allowing himself to feel.

 

“Wait. Bard, I--” Thranduil’s words died in his mouth as he felt a pair of warm lips on the back on his neck, moaning softly despite himself. Thranduil tilted his head to allow Bard better access as the man gently moved his long silvery-blonde hair to the side, suckling on the soft and creamy flesh beneath. 

 

Bard began to lick his way up to the back of the elf’s ear, making Thranduil shudder as his teeth grazed its extremely sensitive tip. He then nibbled on it lightly, earning a strangled moan from the Elvenking.

 

Bard chuckled softly when Thranduil made a small sound of protest when he pulled away, making his way around the chair to stand in front of the elf.

 

Apart from his flushed cheeks and slightly disheveled hair, Thranduil’s expression was neutral.

 

“You’re not mad, I hope.” Bard smiled shyly.

 

“Would you regret what you have done if I was, Dragonslayer?” Thranduil smirked.

 

“No, I suppose not.” Bard replied, bending down to gaze into those impossibly blue eyes. “What I would regret, however, is not being able to show you how I really feel.”

 

Thranduil's eyes widened for a split-second before he smiled, a genuine one that reached his eyes and made the King of Dale's breath hitch, then he pulled Bard down to hungrily claim those brazen lips with his own.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sometime later, when they were both spent and lying contentedly in each other’s arms on the King of Dale’s large bed, Thranduil reminded Bard that he never did manage to finish his massage.

 

Bard was more than happy to continue where he left off.

 

 

 

 

\------  
Check out my Tumblr (girl-most-unlikely.tumblr.com) for more Barduil insanity.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in years, so I'm kinda testing the waters with this ficlet. I honestly don't know what came over me, but what started out as a prompt post for Tumblr ended up being my first ever Barduil fic. 
> 
> This ship has ruined my life and I regret nothing. :x


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